ng flames.
He drew his hand back very quickly, and Jan expected a loud outcry, but
none came. He sat back on the hearth-rug and rocked his body to and fro,
holding the burnt right hand with his left, but he did not utter a
sound.

"It does hurt, doesn't it?" said Jan.

He started at the quiet voice and turned a little puckered face towards
her. "Yes," he said, with a big sigh; "but I know now."

"Come with me and I'll put something on it to make it hurt less," said
Jan, and crossed to the door.

"Hadn't we better," he said, rather breathlessly, "put that thing on for
fear of Fay?"

Jan carefully replaced the "thing" and took him to her room, where she
bandaged the poor little hand with carron-oil and cotton-wool. The outer
edge was scorched from little finger to wrist. She made no remark while
she did it, and Tony leaned confidingly against her the while.

"Is that better?" she asked, when she had fastened the final safety-pin
in the bandage. There was one big tear on Tony's cheek.

"It's nice and cool, that stuff. _Why_ does it hurt so, Auntie Jan? It
looks so kind and pretty."

"It is kind and pretty, only we mustn't go too near. Will you be sure
and tell Fay how it can hurt?"

"I'll _tell_ her," he promised, but he didn't seem to have much hope of
the news acting as a deterrent.

When at bed-time Jan announced that Tony could not possibly bathe Fay
because he mustn't get his hand wet or disturb the dressing, she and Meg
tremblingly awaited the awful fuss that seemed bound to follow.

But Fay was always unexpected. "Then Med muss wass me," she remarked
calmly. The good custom was established and Meg began to perk up again.

CHAPTER XIII

THE WHEELS OF CHANCE

Meg was out walking with the children in Kensington Gardens, and Hannah
was paying the tradesmen's books. It was the only way to make Hannah
take the air, to send her, as she put it, "to do the messages." She
liked paying the books herself, for she always suspected Jan of not
counting the change.

Jan was alone in the flat and was laying tea for the children in the
dining-room when "ting" went the electric bell. She opened the door to
find upon the threshold an exceedingly tall young man; a well-set-up,
smart young man with square shoulders, who held out his hand to her,
saying in a friendly voice: "You may just happen to remember me, Miss
Ross, but probably not. Colonel Walcote's my uncle, and he's living in
your house, you know. My n